


No Light Without The Dark

by GoatBazaarofFics



Series: Through Space and Time [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Anders Needs a Hug, BAMF Anders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fenris Has Issues, Fenris is Bad at Feelings, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Ghosts, Hopeful Ending, Jedi Code, M/M, Sith Code, Star Wars AU, The Dark Side of the Force
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-05-17 00:41:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14821965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoatBazaarofFics/pseuds/GoatBazaarofFics
Summary: In which Fenris is a bounty hunter, and Anders has fallen to the dark side."It is such a quiet thing, to fall. But far more terrible is to admit it."―Kreia





	1. Chapter 1

Two Cathars sit outside a busy diner. At a glance, there are no similarities between the two. One, the male, wore heavy Mandalorian armor. Black and silver, scuffed and worn down. His fur is dark chestnut, warm and marked with white patterns that match his short mane. The other sat across from him, is a female. She stands out, even compared to her striking counterpart. It was not her pale fur, the dark circled around her eyes and lips, or her bright red hair. No, it is her light-green and white robes. She is a Jedi, a not uncommon sight in Coruscant, but people still stop and stare at her.

But their eyes are the same green, their faces are angled and pointed the same way. They’re tones, inflections, their expressions, are identical. To the trained eye, the brother and sister duo were exactly alike.

“Before careful, brother,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Her warning is lost to the busy noise of the streets. “Be careful, for he is strong in the force. He is dangerous and cruel, and terrible. He is nothing like you faced before.”

Fenris resists rolling his eyes at his sister’s cryptic speech. He leans back in his chair, taking a sip of his wine. “And I thought the Sith had the flair for dramatic.”

Varnaia purses her lips, her claws tapping against the table. “Be serious, please. Anders was once a powerful Jedi Knight. He was one of our top force healers, now he’s an agent of the Dark Side.”

“I fought Sith before,” Fenris counters, sneering over his cup. “True Sith, not renegade Jedis. Remember Danarius? Hadrania?” He savors her flinching at their names, as cruel as it may be. “I was there with the infamous Hawke clan when they took down Quinton and Orsino. Not to mention the countless others I’ve cut down. All of them have tasted my blade or felt my blaster. I know how to kill Force users, it's what I was trained to do” He puts his cup down and folds his arms, “I can kill your healer too.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “What?’ she asks, breathless. “I don’t want him dead, I want him back in the temple. So he can heal and rejoin the Order.”

Fenris takes a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re hiring me to capture someone?” he lowers his voice, “do you know what my occupation is, right?” he bites out.

“Yes,” she says, equally annoyed as him, but she hides it better. Jedi training. “You’re not an assassin. You find people, you don’t kill them for money.”

“Maybe I changed jobs,” Fenris says. He finishes his wine.“Tell me, sister, why are you concern about redeeming this man you refer to as cruel, and terrible.”

“Because you can be cruel and terrible, and still have good,” she insists. She digs into her pouch and hands him a holodisc. “In here you will find a report made by a Jedi Master, Karl Thekla. Karl was one of Anders’s closest friends within the order before he was...murdered.” She says the word slowly, drawing it out before she continues, “he chronicles Anders’s fall. He still knew there was good in the healer. The council wants to honor his wishes.”

“How did Thekla die?” Fenris asks, but he suspects he knows the answer.

Varania doesn’t answer right away. She sighs first and picks at her food. “Anders killed him.”

Fenris takes the disc and stands, he drops the credits on his table. “You want me to bring back your healer, I will. But don’t think everyone can be redeemed. Some people are born monsters.” He leaves before she can respond, ending the conversation. 


	2. Chapter 2

Fenris put his ship on auto-pilot. Leaning back in his chair, he rests his feet on the dashboard and slips his hands behind his head. Eyes closed, his sensitive ears twitch. The ship is still, just the low hum of the engine and lights flickering on-and-off in the distance. L3-T0, his tiny astromech droid, is coming down the hallway. His wheels echo in the distance.

He should listen to the holo-recording. This Master Thekla might have insight into Anders’s weaknesses. Something, anything to help Fenris unleash justice on his murderer.

Sighing, he leaves the comfort of his chair. He passes L3-T0 in the narrow space. “Leto,” he starts, using the droid’s preferred name, “ watch the ship. I’ll be in my room.”

The droid gives him an annoyed beep and continues rolling to the cockpit.

A small light overhead turns on as soon as he enters his room. It’s near the back of the ship, too close to the engine for his comfort. Sometimes the dull engine roar is too much for him. He closes the door, knowing there wouldn’t be any quiet. enters Stripping out of the armor, he slips into a long sleeve shirt and leggings. Despite the thick fur covering his body, he is still cold. He was used to the swampy planet, Nal Hutta.

He shudders. He is heading for Hutt Territories now, after two decades of avoiding the damn sector. The only good memories he had of that dreadful planet had been another boy, a human boy, with a healing touch.

While he despises what Danarius had done to him, put him through, at least the bastard freed him from the Hutts. If only to enslave him once again. And now another Sith is dragging him back. If he hadn’t promised his sister he wouldn’t kill Anders, he would do so on principle.

Digging through his pack, he finds the holo-disk and places it on the small dresser against his bed. He pushed play and in seconds, his dark lit room is bathed in a blue light.

A man with a full beard and sorrowful, but kind eyes appeared. He wore traditional Jedi robes. A small, but terribly sad smile graced his features. “Hello, I am Master Karl Thekla,” he said, his voice familiar and etched onto his mind and soul.

A shot of guilt and self-loathing consumes his entire being. The rawness and unbridled hatred at himself leave him trembling. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes. He pauses the recording, trying to keep his breathing under control. The moment Karl disappeared, the emotions flee from him. He clutches his chest, his heart beating rapidly.

Those emotions were not his. He knew this immediately. He knows nothing about Karl Thekla. He never even met the man, but he felt like he did. But it wasn’t him, was it? Anders. Those are Anders’s emotions, his thoughts. His guilt and hate and anger and sadness.

He has been around force users for most of his teenage and adult life. He heard of connections, bonds between two people. But he cannot, and he did want to, wield the force. He is no Jedi, no Sith, or nothing in-between. Danarius had said only force users could have these bonds. And yet, there is no other explanation for what just experienced. Or maybe he’s ignorance of the force is shining through. Or Danarius lied? Was there more to the force than what was shoved down his throat by the sith? It isn’t hard to imagine Danarius deceiving him. He did it well for fifteen years of his life. But to think he has a connection

Fenris takes a steady breath. Force, or no force, he needs to listen to this recording. Understanding Anders will help him bring the Sith down. bracing himself, he throws walls up in his mind. A force user by the name of Merrill, a witch who claims she is not a Sith or Jedi, taught him mental tricks to block Danarius and his cronies from manipulating his mind.

Maybe he can block out Anders too?

He can’t.

He pushes play and the onslaught of emotions that are not his assaults his senses. He digs his nails into his blanket, tearing holes into the sheets.

“Hello, my name is Karl Thekla,” somber and sweet and tender and broken. That was Karl’s voice, sweet, sweet Karl. “I am making this log for historical purposes, but also for own well being. It is not uncommon for Jedi to fall. It happens more times than the Order would wish for it to happen. But the two Jedi I speak of today is near and dear to my heart. I will not lie, their betrayal to the Order cuts me deeply.”

Fenris snarls. He’s angry, but he can’t tell if the rage is coming from him or an outside force.

Probably both.

“Fello Jedi Master Justice and his Padawan, Anders, were close friends of mine and my own Padawan. I grew up with Justice, and we trained our Padawans together,” he explained. “Justice was wholly dedicated to the Order, to the Code. He recited it nearly daily. He lived by the Code, and he died by the Code, even after his fall.”

Prickles of sorrow replaced the fiery self-loathing. “Anders’s teacher had died? Did he kill him too?” Fenris asks. 

But he is speaking to a recording. And therefore, Karl went on without answering. “I never agreed with Justice’s dogmatic view of the world or his strict teaching habits. Nor did he approve how I taught my Padawan. but our differences were our strengths. The four of us were sent on missions. We had a high success rate.” a proud smile replaces the grim frown. Karl had been a handsome man. A man a young man, curious about the world around him. About sex, and love, and about family would spend many nights dreaming about.

And Fenris nearly blanches. He does not need nor want Anders’s fantasies in his mind.

Karl continues, “but one mission, one terrible mission ruined everything. Both Justice and Anders’s fall started twenty years ago, even if they showed their colors five years ago—

Beeping noise from outside Fenris’s door drowns out whatever Karl story was about to spin. He turns the recording off and sees what Leto wants. Before he confronts the droid, he wipes his eyes and calms his breathing.

The doors slide open. “Yes?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

The astromech beeps rapidly, but he catches what she’s saying. And because he does, he rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “And what does the fool want now?”

The droid sighs and projects a full body hologram onto the floor.

“Fenris!”

He flinches, his pointed ears more sensitive to a human’s, “Hawke,” his voice is dry.

Garrett Hawke is a proud Mandalorian warrior, a champion to his people. And an internal pain to those who are near and dear. He is rarely out of his armor and helmet, but tonight he’s in casual clothing. His grin is that of a madman, and his black hair is a mess. This isn’t going to be good for Fenris. “I have good news!” he shouts, his excitement bouncing off the walls. “I’m getting the old gang back together. I got mission lined up for us. A prince from Alderaan—

“Hawke!” he repeats the name, shouting this time. The man promptly shuts up. “Thank you.” he rubs his temples. While a welcome distraction was very much needed, Fenris doubts he needs Hawke bombastic personality. “I can’t join you on your mission.”

The man gasps genuinely hurt. “But why? Who’s going to be there to argue with Merrill about the force? Flirt with Isabela? Joke with Varric? I can only do two of those things.”

Fenris rolls his eyes. “Please, do not start with the dramatics. I am on my own mission.”

“And it’s more important than a prince? He’s hot, by the way!” he exclaims as if this is the biggest selling point. Nice accent, lovely brown skin, sparkling blue eyes! He’s almost as handsome as me, if not my equal.”

“It’s a favor for my sister,” his voice is dull.

He has known Hawke for five years now, and the most important thing in life is family. Mentioning Varania is a quick way to make the Mandalorian serious. “Your sister?” even his voice calmed. “What does she want?”

“She wants me to hunt a former Jedi down.”

Hawke’s eyebrows shot up, “and do what, kill them? I didn’t know the Code permitted Jedis to hire assassins. ”

He shakes his head, “I’m not an assassin, Hawke, I am a bounty hunter. She wants me to bring the Sith back so he could be redeemed.”

“Heh, you could have fooled me,” he crosses his arms, leaning against some wall Fenris can’t see. “Your last few jobs were assassinations.”

Fenris shrugs, unable to argue. “Senator Meredith and her cronies deserved what was coming to them.”

“Oh, right. I forgot about that.’ Hawke’s tone is still light, but the humor leaves his eyes at the mention of Meredith Stannard.

“You could have taken the job years ago,” he counters. “But you didn’t. Anyway, the point is I haven’t been hired to take out this healer, but to bring him back to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Apparently, Varania wants this man alive, despite the fact he murdered his own kind.”

Hawke’s eyes light up again. “A Jedi killer,” he whistles, “oh, boy, sounds like you got your work cut out for you.”

“I do.” Fenris wonders if he should mention what happened minutes ago. Would Hawke understand? His own sister is a force user. And his father had been part of the Order. Hawke has in the past talked about his father teaching him ways of the Force even if he can't use it himself.

Maybe he has insight that Fenris doesn’t.

Or the possible connection will scare Hawke into doing something stupid and boch both their missions. The Mandalorian has a terrible habit of reacting on impulse.

“What do you know about this Jedi?” Hawke asks.

“For one, he’s not a Jedi. He’s a Sith.” he corrects the man, earning his own eye roll. A constant an argument between him and Hawke. It was the same with Merrill, not every force user fit in a neat category. And while Fenris can admit that Bethany isn’t either or, not many haven’t proved him wrong. He continues. “But what I know is he’s a ‘terrible and cruel’ healer, or at least according to my sister.”

“Heh, a healer. They always say doctors have the bloodiest hands,” he muses.

Fenris raises an eyebrow, “I suppose.” Leto beeps, making his ears twitch. “I have to go, the ship is leaving hyperdrive,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah. Damn, Fenris, I was looking forward to all of us being together. It’s been a year,” he was visibly upset, and that made Fenris feel guilty. But a spark of hope sparks in the burly human. “But hey, here’s an idea,” he snaps. “When you bring this healer of yours back to the light side, you should introduce us. Especially if he’s cute,” he winks.

“He’s not my healer—

But Hawke disappears before he could finish. Sighing, Fenris slumps against the cool metal. Seeing the burly man and hearing his jovial voice, made the Cathar realize how much he misses Hawke and their other friends. For several strong years, they were—and still are—his rock. Their presence tethered him to normalcy, live outside of being a slave. It hurts terribly he is across the known galaxy, hunting down a sith, while his friends are gathered elsewhere.

Another reason to hate Anders.

Leto beeps and hums. We’re leaving hyperdrive in two minutes. The droid warns.

Fenris rolls his neck, enjoying the crack and pop his bones make. Wishing to be with his friends right now is a waste of his time. He has a job to do. He has to mentally prepare himself. Anders will not be an easy opponent.

He takes three steps to the cockpit and collapses at the threshold. An eruption of pain explodes in his chest. He sobs, his body racked with a thousand aches and pins. A river of hate runs through his veins and burns him from the inside out. He squeezes his eyes shut. Behind him, Leto is speaking rapidly, horrified and concerned for his friend. But his beeping and the ship’s engine is muffled. It is as if the ship is filled with water, and he is drowning.

And then silence.

When he opens his eyes again, the cool, gray metal of the ship’s interior is gone. The bright lights and the monitors are gone too. Replaced by a dark cave and a glowing fire. The ambers dance and flicker, swaying peacefully. The bright color used to be the color of his eyes. He seen his reflection the other day. His golden irises have turned into pale, sickly yellow. 

The sudden pain isn’t so sudden. He’s lived with constant anger and sadness for years now. He is used to the aches and soreness.

And the noise of the ship is gone too.

instead, a voice of smooth honey reaches his ears. Foreign, but familiar at the same time. His voice, but not his voice. But it is him who is speaking, but it isn’t.

“Through victory, my chains are broken,” he whispers. A mantra, a reminder. He will never be a puppet again. The Jedi do not own him. “The Force shall free me.”


End file.
